When he reached the shallows he hadn’t the strength to stand up, and with her eyes still on him she knotted the end of the rope, then flew to the water’s edge and went straight in, shoes and all.
When she reached him he was only about ten feet from the bank, but even here she could feel the undertow of the water, for she was almost swept off her feet; and she might have been if she hadn’t grabbed at him. Then they were stumbling and falling towards the bank, and they lay where they fell, gasping and choking.
It was Kirsten who raised herself first, and then she was exclaiming in dismay, ‘Oh dear God! Oh dear God!’ for it seemed to her that every inch of his chest was lacerated and oozing blood, and his thumb looked like mangled pulp. There was a deep graze down his face, and his feet appeared as if they had been dyed red.
‘Oh, Colum! Colum!’ She had her arms about him, holding his head to her breast, kissing him with an abandon she had never shown towards him before, and when his arm came up around her they both fell back on to the bank and he returned her embrace. Then again he was lying back and looking at her, and smiling now while she hung over him, muttering, ‘I should never have let you do it; we should have waited until the river went down. Oh Colum, Colum, you could have drowned. But look at you; you won’t be able to move tomorrow. And when they see you—’ she shook her head, ‘all for nothing.’
He sat up slowly now and said, ‘Aye, all for nothing.’ Then looking up the river, he added, ‘It’s terrifying out there. I always knew it was bad in that spot; it must have been to take Paddy down, because he was a strong beast and had swam the river from he was a puppy.’ He turned and looked at her now. ‘I was frightened, scared to death, because I thought it was on me…death. You know something? I…I never thought anything could frighten me. That’s one thing I prided meself on, being fearless like, but begod, I was frightened back there a few minutes ago!’ He shook his head again. ‘And all for nothing, as you say.’
He stumbled to his feet now and went to the edge of the bank. Lying face forward, he thrust his hand down into the water and when he brought it up he looked at it and saw that the nail had been ripped away.
Quickly she put her hand into her pocket and brought out a wet handkerchief and gently she bound up his thumb and while she was doing so he looked up the river towards the big stones and on a high exclamation, he cried, ‘It’s gone! Look, it’s gone. I must have loosened it. It’s gone.’
They were both on their feet now, their eyes searching among the rocks to see if the shaft had become wedged anywhere. But there was no sign of it, and he said, ‘It was likely taken under instead of me. But wait; I wasn’t over the gully. If I had been I wouldn’t be here now; I know that much. I must have edged it away at the last minute. Come on.’ He was now stumbling along the uneven bank, she following him, asking, ‘Where? Where d’you think it’ll be, where?’
‘Round the bend. It’s a sharp turn; anything thrown out of the main stream generally gets caught up there.’
When they rounded the bend, he let out a yell. ‘There it is! There it is!’
The piece of yellow shaft was lying broadside against a group of low boulders, but they were some distance out in the river. Her protest against him attempting to reach it was useless because he was already in the water and wading towards the rocks.
Her hands cupping her face, she watched the water rise up to his armpits once more; then his hand went out and gripped the elusive piece of yellow wood, and slowly he pulled it towards him. And now he was wading towards the bank as swiftly as if he were walking on dry land.
Lifting the shaft from the water, he held it out to her and she took it from him and stood looking at one end of it. The splintered end was only faintly yellow now and the scroll had washed off completely. As if coming to herself, she dropped it to the ground, knelt down, and moved her fingers along the sodden wood, first one side and then the other; and when there was a slight movement her fingers became still, and her breathing became still, and she looked at him where he was kneeling opposite her, his eyes bright, his pain and discomfort forgotten for the moment; and he whispered, ‘You’ve got it?’
She did not answer but pressed her fingers still farther. The spring, rusty now, did not work as it should, but it caused the wood to move as a locked door would when shaken by the handle. ‘It’s here…this…help press it back.’
Their fingers together they edged them into the slight aperture, then of a sudden the door shot open and they stared down in silence now at a number of small leather bags.
‘Go on,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘they’re yours.’
When her hand hovered over the aperture he said again, ‘Go on.’
Quickly now, as if the bags had teeth and would bite her, she picked them out one after the other and dropped them onto the bank between them. There were five in all; four small ones a little longer than her first finger, and only about an inch and a half wide; the fifth one was as broad as it was long. This was the one she picked up first, and when her fingers could not undo the knot in the thin string binding the top of the bag, silently she pushed it towards him; and as he went to undo the knot the blood oozed through the handkerchief on his thumb and covered the first coins that he spilled from the bag. They were silver shillings, and her disappointment showed in her open mouth. Looking at him, she said, ‘Only shillin’s.’
His face, too, showed traces of disappointment, but his voice was eager when he said, ‘Shillings make sovereigns. Let’s count them.’
‘No. No. Open the others.’ She handed him one of the bags while she herself tore at a knot, and when they almost simultaneously pulled off the strings the money that spilled out from these bags was sovereigns. And now they were staring at each other, their eyes shining. Without a word they attacked the other bags, but these showed only half-sovereigns.
‘Count them! Count them…the sovereigns first.’
‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…’ They went on keeping up with each other as they chanted.
She stopped when she came to nineteen, and he continued on to twenty-one and then he said in a whisper, ‘Forty sovereigns! Forty whole sovereigns!’
‘And the rest. And the rest.’ She was moving her fingers among the half-sovereigns, and again they counted them. There were twenty-two half-sovereigns in one bag and twenty-six in another, sixty-four pounds besides the silver. Slowly now they counted the silver. There was three pounds five shillings in silver; in all, sixty-seven pounds five shillings.
It seemed that they knelt and gazed at each other for a long time; then they fell over the money and into each other’s arms. When he rolled her on the grass, wet as they both were and bleeding as he was, she laughed as she had never done before, as a girl of her age would laugh. Then they both sobered up somewhat when he exclaimed, ‘Ah, look; your face is covered with blood,’ and she replied. ‘Never mind that; let’s get you up home and have your thumb seen to, an’ the rest of you.’
When a moment later she asked, ‘Are you in pain, Colum?’ he laughed loudly as he pointed to the ground and cried, ‘With all that money!’
He had been rising from the ground as he spoke, and now he stood straight and still, speaking quietly. ‘What am I yammerin’ about? It isn’t my money, it’s yours; and you earned it with what you went through with that fellow…But if you’ll agree I’ll take a bit of it, say ten sovereigns; that should cover the solicitor man’s charge.’
‘No, no.’ She was standing in front of him, her hands on his bare shoulders. ‘I don’t want any of it, Colum, not a penny; the only thing I’ll ask is that you buy Elizabeth and Dorry and the bairns something.’
He shook his head, saying, ‘Aw no, I couldn’t take that lot…all that lot.’
At this she spread her arms from her sides, saying, ‘Well, ask yourself: what would I do with it? Where would I hide it? If I took it back there’—she nodded across the river—‘and they found it there’d be all kinds of questions asked; you can’t keep a secr
et over there.’ Even as she said this she knew it to be a lie, for she had secrets both inside and outside the house. At times the thought of what was buried near the wall gave her nightmares. She went on now, and with her head slightly drooped, ‘We’ll need money some day, when…when we set up.’
‘Aye, aye, you’re right.’ He caught her again to him and kissed her hard and long until she pulled away laughing, saying, ‘Look at me; I’ll be blood all over and I’ve got to do something about me wet things. Come on, come on.’
They gathered up the money and thrust it haphazardly into the bags and were about to set off when Colum turned quickly and, picking up the yellow shaft, said, ‘I’ll keep this until the end of me days. I’ll tell you what I’ll do.’ He pressed it up under his arm. ‘I’ll fix it in the lid of me coffin if it turns out to be the means of saving me land.’ Again he was referring to the land as his. ‘I’ll make it that it goes right down the middle of the lid; there’ll not be another one in the county, or in the country for that matter, to match it.’
Laughing gaily, they both stumbled up the hill and into the enclosure, there to be met by Kathie and Michael who ran beside them towards the house, and as they crossed the yard Colum shouted towards the rope walk, ‘Da! An’ you, Barney. Come on, come on here and see.’
Like a pack of excited children they all rushed into the kitchen together and Dorry cried, ‘What’s it? What’s it! A fire? Hello, me girl.’ She looked Kirsten up and down, then exclaimed, ‘My God! Where’ve you been, in a fight? And you, lad, you’re swimming in blood.’
‘Never mind that,’ said Colum. ‘Where’s Ma?’
‘I’m here,’ said Elizabeth, coming from the storeroom. Then she, too, cried but with more restraint, ‘What has happened you both?’
‘These have happened us both.’ He was now spilling the sovereigns, half-sovereigns and shillings onto the wooden table, and they all gazed at them and no-one uttered a word until Colum said, ‘They were in the yellow shaft sticking in the river. She knew all about them all the time.’ He pulled Kirsten to him. ‘She’s brought us luck; the saying’s gone topsy-turvy.’
At his words she still kept the smile on her face even as the chill touched her heart. They had known about the saying. Nevertheless her following thoughts melted the chill, for in spite of them knowing they had welcomed her, treated her like a daughter, given out love to her. Yes they had; and she loved them all in return. Part of her love for Colum was made up of her love for them all, each and every one of them.
She now pulled herself from Colum’s grasp and, bending down to Kathie and Sharon, took their hands and knocked them gently together as she asked, ‘What would you like best in the world? You can have anything, anything, a big doll, a musical box, anything. And you, too, Barney and Michael, what would you like best in the world?’
When Michael, his dark eyes bright, his small face wide with laughter, said, ‘A lump of stottie cake,’ the mystery of the miracle was broken and they all fell to laughing loudly, falling on each other, clutching at each other, even Elizabeth. All that money, all that gold and silver, and all he wanted was, ‘A lump of stottie cake.’
PART SEVEN
DISINTEGRATION
One
It was in the spring of 1853 that Konrad prepared for a hurried journey to Sweden. His grandfather had died, quite suddenly the letter said, and although the letter had been dispatched at once and had been sent by post-chaise from the boat the moment it arrived in Newcastle, not unless he was able to fly, Konrad knew, could he reach Sweden and attend the funeral. But as his grandfather’s will was not to be read until the whole family were assembled it behoved him to get there as soon as possible in any case so as not to delay matters unduly.
And he wanted to get there as soon as possible, for never before in his life had it been so imperative that he acquaint himself with the amount of money that his grandfather had left him. His mercenary thought did not detract anything from the genuine sorrow he felt at the old man’s going. He had always had a deep regard for his grandfather. When young, he had imbibed his philosophy like a newborn colt lapping up milk.
It was well known among the branches of the Swedish part of the family that he stood high in old Vittor’s regard, and so, therefore, they all knew that he would receive more than an equal share in the old iron-master’s estate.
But still, it was unfortunate, or just untimely, Konrad considered, that he had to make the journey at the present time. The state of the market in London was troubling him; the world was uneasy. There was great unrest, and fear of Russian agents everywhere. And those two men, Russell and Palmerston, were trying to force the Prime Minister into confrontation with a Russia bent on carving up Turkey. Such was the state of unrest that the markets had all gone to pot.
The fall in his gold shares of late had been disturbing, to say the least; and if there should be war, well then! He did not think of the consequences.
And apart from the material pressures on him, there were the emotional pressures too. At one time he had found great physical satisfaction in riding, and of course in other pursuits necessary to the flesh of man. He had also enjoyed a gamble; sometimes he had been lucky, sometimes not. But of late these pleasures all seemed to have lost their taste; their place having been taken by that which he thought of as the seed of his loins, his son.
He loved the child; straight or crooked, he loved him. He saw him as a bright little fellow showing an intelligence beyond his years, which were now just turned two. Moreover, his legs were growing stronger; though still bowed he was making valiant efforts to stand on them. The child tugged harder at his heart as he watched him stumbling and falling between the trees in the park where Kirsten, ever mindful of his welfare, took him every day, the weather permitting.
… And Kirsten…that child…that girl…that young woman, because that was what she was now, a young woman, with swelling breasts and curving hips and a skin that softened the eyes to look upon; and when her mind was at peace and therefore her eye straight, she was so beautiful that to look at her created pain in him. The very proximity of her disturbed him; what also disturbed him, and equally, was her relationship with that upstart, young Flynn.
And this was recalled to his mind as he looked down at the letter under his hand. It was from his solicitors advising him that he had lost the case against Daniel Flynn, that the clause in the old deed he had produced had not been proved valid, it appertained only to the piece of land previously bought from Michael Flynn, and this land now forming part of the park did not reach to the river bank. The letter went on to point out that if there had been a lien concerning a further sale it would naturally have been affixed to the deed. There still remained the question of another deed having been made, but after having undertaken a thorough search of all documents relating to the estate, which had been passed on to the firm thirty years ago when they had been pleased to receive the business from the late W. R. Fanshaw, nothing of a helpful nature had come to light, so their humble advice to their client was to allow the matter to rest.
He muttered a deep oath, then rose from the chair, went out of the library, crossed the hall and, passing Slater at the bottom of the stairs and without stopping, put a question to him. ‘Has the mistress gone out yet?’
Slater looked up at his master’s back as he said, ‘No, sir.’
Striding across the landing and down the corridor he thought ruefully that it had come to some pass when he the master in his own house did not know the movements of his wife, but had to ask his butler. Yet he supposed it was his own fault that he did not at least know her comings and goings. She had accused him of spending most of his time in the east wing. Well, she was right there. To what profit spending it here where there was neither physical nor mental return?
He entered her room without knocking. She was not, as he had imagined, ready to take a drive as she usually did on fine mornings but was sitting reading a book. He had never seen her with a book in her hand since they ha
d been married. He walked to within a yard of her, and as if she had just noticed his presence she raised her eyes and looked up at him. She had changed, he considered, since the child was born, but more so during the last year. There was something in her expression when she looked at him that defied analysis; it wasn’t scorn, for she would not dare to scorn him. Yet had she not scorned him by refusing him her body? And the look, strangely now, held no trace of nervousness, or fear, and she had at one time certainly been afraid of him. He would have said she had grown up, become a woman, if it wasn’t that her voice, conversation and manner still portrayed that of a young, spoilt girl.
She waited for him to speak, and he said quietly, ‘I’m leaving for Newcastle this afternoon; I hope to pick up the boat for Sweden going out on the morning tide.’
When she widened her eyes at him but still did not speak, he went on, ‘My grandfather is dead; I heard yesterday.’
‘Oh!’ She lowered her eyelids as if in sympathy; then drooped her head, but only for a second. The thin chin now pointing upwards, she stared at him, her mouth open as if she were about to speak; then getting to her feet and laying the book on the table, she walked across to the fireplace and from there, and in a small voice, she asked, ‘Will it mean that I cannot attend the ball?’
‘The ball?’
She turned towards him. ‘The Miltons, Henry and Rose, their ball, on Friday evening.’
He now thrust out his lower lip and jerked his head in an impatient movement before saying, ‘I can see no reason why you shouldn’t; for you to stay away would be false sentiment; you never met my grandfather.’
There was silence for a moment before she asked, ‘May I have my jewels before I go?’
The Slow Awakening Page 20